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Great, the bitch has been sampling our merchandise, let’s hope she fucking paid for it herself.
"What are you going to do Jag? That woman is a fucking mess." I shake my head in disgust; everything she does is vile.
"I'm done with her. I can't fucking do this." Anger dripping from his words.
"You should have been done with her a long ass time ago. If you had you'd have made sure you tied that blonde to the bed." I give him a pointed look. I have no idea who the woman is; all I know is two women walked into our lives on the same night and fucked with our heads. Both women vanished before sunrise, never to be seen or heard from again.
He narrows his eyes at me, "You think I don't think about that constantly? Sarah was fucking amazing, and now she’s disappeared."
"You ever think having that bitch on your dick could have been the reason why?" I have my suspicions about Carina and the shit she's said to keep Jagger on a hook. She was here the night Jagger and Sarah got together, and I'm betting my left nut she's lying about everything.
His eyes flash with anger, "I'm not fucking stupid Hudson, I know what she's been doing."
I give him a look, one that tells him to watch his tone. "Then what the fuck were you still doing with her?"
He sighs, "Leave it, yeah? We've got a meeting to get to."
“Jag, I get you’re pissed. That bitch has you wrapped around her finger. You became her lap dog…”
His eyes narrow, “Boss…”
I raise an eyebrow, “Jag, you’ve lost the respect from some of the men, as my right-hand man that can’t be allowed. It’s going to take you a fucking long time to rebuild that respect. Carina was yours to control, and you failed to do so. That’s on you.” I tell him, he’s my brother, but he’s fucked up. Women do not feature in our world; they're to be cherished and protected. They do not treat the men as their personal slaves or as someone beneath them.
"Everyone going to be there?" I ask as I exit my office.
"Yes." He replies, walking beside me. "I almost laughed when I got a reply from Ulric telling me he'll be there."
I smirk. This is going to be fun. "He's not going to know what's hit him."
As we get outside the club, there’s a black sedan across the street. Fucking feds, always up in my business. They're trying to find anything on me to put me inside. I'm not that fucking stupid.
"Mr. Brady," Johnson calls out, that guy is really busting his chops to try and pin something on me, he's a rookie fed, and he's hoping that if he can get me in the can, it'll make his career. He'll be a legend, bringing down the biggest drug lord in America.
"Mr. Johnson, don't you have anything better to do? Like going home to your family?" I smirk, the fucker is a loner, his wife left him because he was fucking his co-worker. So he spends his evenings trying to find anything to bring my organization down.
His lips thin into a tight line. "You going anywhere nice?"
I give him a cold stare, "That would be none of your business. I'll see you around, Mr. Johnson." I climb into the back of the Bentley Continental, Jagger climbing in beside me as Martin starts the engine.
"He's got a hard on for you Hudson. He's not going to let up." Jagger grinds his teeth. He does that when he's mad, it's his tell. The one that tells you to run because Jagger's on the warpath.
"Tell me about it. He needs to look elsewhere and fast. I can't have him on my ass." The fucker is way too close for my liking.
"Martin, did you service the car?" That's Jagger's way of asking if Martin swept for bugs and tracking devices.
"It's fine," he's a man of very limited words. Just how I like it. I hate small talk, it's useless and pointless.
The car’s clean, there's no way Martin would lie. Besides Jagger, he’s the most loyal man I have. He's killed men for betraying me. He started out as my driver when he first started working for the family and grew into my bodyguard. I never needed him, I'm more than capable of fighting my own battles, but Dad was boss and what he said went. So a twenty-two year old Martin became my chauffeur and bodyguard when I was fifteen.
"Martin, what's happening with Jorge? Has he given you any information?" I ask, feeling irritated, I hate being kept in the dark.
It's been two weeks and no contact from him. He's been in the Álverez Cartel for over a year, long before we joined forces with Juan, but when my dad left and he found out about my dislike of Juan, he came forward. He told us that he'd feed us information in return for making sure his wife and child who live here in San Francisco are safe while he can't be with them. He doesn't trust Juan, and he had suspicions that his family were being watched. He was right; they were. I managed to get them into a safe house and no one, not even Jagger knows where they are. Jorge was true to his word, and he has fed us vital information. I haven't made any of what he’s said public yet. I'm biding my time. Getting all my ducks in a row, if things go south, I'm making sure there's no blowback on us. Jorge hasn't given anything to us in the last two weeks, and I'm getting fucking antsy.
"Yes Boss. He's given me something, and I'm not sure of its authenticity, so I'm doing some checks before I inform you." He says cryptically, and I raise my brow, does he really believe that shitty response is going to keep me from inquiring further?
I glance at Jagger, who looks just as shocked as I do. "Martin?" I growl, he's pissed me off with the bullshit he's just said.
A heavy sigh escapes him, "Boss, he heard something that didn't sit right with him, he confided that to me, and we're not sure if it's credible."
